best neck


[Kagerou Daze -in a day’s-] BEFORE and AFTER

Neck Deep proved why they’re this year’s BEST LIVE BAND and tore up our 2016 #APMAS stage - the whole crowd was singing along 👍🎶  (📷 : Lily P. McLaughlin)


Comic dub of an Overwatch fancomic by @superrisu - featuring the voices of Tiana Camacho and myself! I’ve never had a dream of being chased by giant man-sized versions of food before while wearing a pretty pink princess outfit. I feel like I’m missing out.

If you enjoyed that, why not watch some of my other Overwatch comic dubs?
The Neck’s Best Thing
Spending Critique
Pickup Masters
Children of Overwatch

Or check out the full playlist here!

she got that ancient, timeless kind of silhouette

“Take your broken heart and make it into art.” — Carrie Fisher
^ this really inspired me to put everything I felt about R/verdale and their erasure of aroace Jughead by literally making a piece of art.

Deep South

The series is as follows :

Mama Scully’s Party …. MorningUnderwearsMapsNachosFoul BallPromisesStayPhone CallsFlannel InterruptionAwakeningFriendly CompromisesScrabbleApart …  A Long WeekLightningMissing YouInterimStuffWaitingGoingHandsUnsteadyFearFastSlowRegardlessInto the DarkLightSurfboardsCurbsShowersBordersCanyonsSoakedIce CreamNever HappenedDeep SouthAlmostBlue-Suede ShoesUnwelcomeRemarkableStarsDoorbellsM&MsKneesHome


Texas was a very long drive, Scully navigating the car across the widest part of the state, aiming for New Orleans but having to pass through Dallas to get there. Neither was happy about this or really, being in the entire state so they just gritted their teeth and drove, Mulder now in the front seat again, keeping her awake with everything he had in his arsenal.

She was grateful for that, however, the fatigue still forced her from the car every few hours to jog laps in the parking lots of rest areas and Wal-marts, Mulder swinging behind her, doing leg lifts using the cast as weight. It took for-damn-ever but eventually, they saw the ‘Welcome to Louisiana’ sign and Scully pulled over in front of it, “picture, please.”

He already had the camera in his hand, “we’ve gotten every other sign, even the Texas one so I am not about to forget this one.”

Climbing out of the car, she called back to him, “but this one is going to have me in it. Give me a minute to get over there.” Grinning, he got his shot a few moments later, the weeds forcing her to stop earlier than she would have liked. Back in the car, “I was going to climb it. I saw a ladder attached but the weeds would have swallowed me way before I got there.”

“Well, I can always have the guys add you in the picture or something.”

“No, no no no no no, I will not be faked. Every photo is going to be genuine and funny-looking and embarrassing and perfect just the way they are. Messing with photos is a government thing and I will not be part of that.”

Her voice held just enough of an edge to it that he turned to her, “are you okay?”

“No, ‘cause I’m still in Texas and I hate Texas and I swear I saw a bee and I just want to go another 100 feet across the border and I’ll feel better.”

Reaching across the car, he rubbed the back of her neck, “they have bees in Louisiana, too.”

“They’re … they’re just … different. I’m fine with those bees.”

“Scully …”

“I’m being irrational and stupid and I realize this but go with it, please?”

She’d moved from edge to plead and he stilled his hand, squeezing it softly, “then let’s go. It’s about 3 hours to New Orleans. Do you want to push it or stop?”

Shaking her head to clear the craziness that temporarily occupied her brain, “I think I can do it. I’m going to be a zombie when I get there but that’s what they have hotels for.”

“Very true.”

It was well after dark when they pulled into the French Quarter, Scully navigating it better than Mulder had expected and without too much trouble, they found their hotel for the next few days. It was on the expensive side and they’d argued some about it until Mulder shut her down with, “this is the reason I wear suits from the sale rack, Scully. This is the reason I eat Chef Boy-R-Dee and Mac and Cheese. This right here is what my bank account has been waiting for, so be quiet, let me out and I will be back to tell you where to park the car.”

She waited.

Until a valet appeared beside a grinning Mulder, “pop the trunk. They’re gonna get the bags and park the car for you.”

“I can move my own luggage and park my own car, Mulder.”

“Too bad it’s my car and half my luggage so get out and come on.”

Sometimes, she wanted to throttle him but right now, for all her independent, flag-waving feminism, she was only fighting because she knew he enjoyed it. Sliding from the seat, she handed the keys to the smiling man, then came around to make sure the bellman got everything. She apologized quietly for the gun safe, which Mulder had told the desk about as he flashed his badge. He shook his head, “perfectly fine, ma’am. On my days off, I work construction. If you don’t mind me saying, I could carry both you and the safe upstairs without breaking a sweat.”

He said it was such disarming charm and honestly in his accent that she immediately adored him, “I can probably walk but thank you very much for the offer.”

Tipping his hat at her, “my pleasure, ma’am.”

Once they’d been led through the ornate lobby, in and up the elevators and were safely stowed away in their room, Mulder looked at her, gleam in his eye, “you’ve made a friend.”

“That’s his job, Mulder.”

“And he will be very well tipped for it but you have to admit, I think he’s kind of sweet on you.”

“Sweet on me?”

Along with the gleam came that smile of his, “it’s not a very difficult thing to be, Scully. Trust me.”

“We’re talking about Frohike now, aren’t we?”

The smile got wider as he moved to the bathroom, “sure, yeah, Frohike.”

Deciding to find her pajamas and change while he was in the bathroom, she just finished pulling the pants up when Mulder swung around the corner, “gotcha! Damn it! Why are you so fast at that?”

“Changing? I’ve been doing it for several decades now. I’ve gotten good at it.”

“I am never going to catch you.”

As she shifted her suitcase and pulled down the sheets, “keep trying, Mulder and one day, you might get lucky and see a hint of nipple but then, you know, you’ll probably fall down dead on the spot and not be able to gloat about it.”

He really hadn’t heard anything past the word ‘nipple’ but he nodded anyways, “probably.”

“Need your pillows?”

“Yes, please.”


New Orleans had been Scully’s pick and Mulder, never having been there for more than an hour to either change planes or drive past on his way to somewhere else, was quite happy with it, especially after he saw just how close they were to Bourbon Street and restaurants that smelled nearly as heavenly as that spot behind Scully’s ear after her shower when they were leaning over casefiles at strange tables in strange hotels in the middle of nowhere and his nose was so close to her, her hair tickled his cheek and he slipped into a state of bliss.

They woke up mid-afternoon and were soon wandering the streets, Mulder, now an expert on crutches in cities, maneuvered curbs, cobblestone and oblivious tourists with ease. First, they sampled the beignets, which Mulder promptly decided should be their breakfast and lunch from now on, then, they ambled, finding streets bands, kids banging out rhythms on buckets, artists set up in Jackson Square. Scully even got him to go in the church and to his surprise, he was not struck by lightning.

“Well, what do you know?”

Scully grinned as they walked back down the steps after a half-hour in the building, “Fox Mulder doesn’t die after setting foot in church. That ought to make a good headline for the ‘Gunmen’.”

Turning her around, “Let’s head towards the river. I don’t need to be tempting fate by standing outside the church too long either.”

“Lead the way.”

Bourbon Street was hoping by the time they ate dinner and headed back towards the hotel. Both were amused, amazed and simultaneously taken aback by some of the things they saw. The man dressed as Gandalf from ‘Lord of the Rings’ asking for assistance in his quest for weed was perhaps the most entertaining and when Mulder laughed and Scully laughed, Mulder looked at her and she said, “what? Did you not expect me to get the Lord of the Rings reference?”

“No, I … just … not many people would get that.”

Smoothly moving him out of the way of a drunken couple stumbling entirely too close to him and his crutches, “you really shouldn’t be surprised by anything after the night at the arcade, Mulder.”

She was very close, very, very close and even through the smell of sweaty bodies, liquor, the occasional whiff of vomit and pee that seemed to encompass the entire length of the debaucherous street, he could smell her shampoo, her soap, her hand lotion, that essence of Scully that made his head spin. Quickly laying a kiss to the side of her neck, he did it a second and third time before pulling away, “so, think I can handle some alcohol? Haven’t had any Vicodin in three days I think.”

It was the strangest thing. The moment Mulder’s lips touched her neck, the world went silent. Not just moving to the background sounds but honest-to-God silent. When he backed off, the sounds came roaring back to her, hurting her ears with its cacophony. It took her a second to process he’d said something but given she had no idea what, she looked at him confused, “what did you say?”

He grinned, mouth wide, teeth gleaming, knowing exactly how she felt and relishing that he’d caused it, “I wondered if you thought I could handle a drink. No drugs in three days.”

Her skin still burned, “um, well, one is probably fine but if we have more than that, I’d say we take them back to the room or at least make sure you’re sober enough to work crutches when you stand back up.”

“Works for me.”

Eventually, each had consumed a hand grenade and a Hurricane and were very happy to realize the hotel was only across the street. Scully steadied Mulder who shuffled very carefully, hyper aware of his cast and her hand on his arm, both of which took up all processing ability, making him realize they were up in their room only after they got there.

“I don’t remember the elevator ride, Scully.”

She had the same dazed look on her face, “neither do I, actually.”

“This is our room, correct?”

Holding up the room key, “it let us in the door so I’m assuming.”


Leaving Mulder in the dark, she moved to the bathroom, forgoing turning on the light but also forgetting to shut the door. Peeing quickly and silently, which Mulder wrinkled his eyebrows at in confusion, she re-appeared, drying her hands on her skirt, “I’m think I’m going to run back down and get us a few more of those.”

Having already settled on the bed, “do you need me?”

Alcohol, meet Scully … loose-lipped Scully, meet dizzy Mulder, “you have no idea sometimes.”

Now, the silence was in his head and by the time the acoustic deadening ended, he was alone and wondering what the hell was in these drinks.

Then, suddenly, she was back, juggling two more large containers, handing him one then shuffling her way carefully to the other side of the bed, “my luggage buddy made sure to remind me to drink plenty of water so after this … plenty of water.”

“I told you he was sweet on you.”

“You’ve gone southern on me, Mulder, and it’s quite unnerving.”

In his best, terribly bad accent, “now I just need me some pecan pie.”

“Drink your libations.”

“That’s the second time you’ve called them that since I’ve known you.”

Scully shook her head, the cup she was holding following her lips, “your brain is scary as hell sometimes.”

Flicking on the TV, he pseudo-clinked his drink with hers, “so’s yours.”

The night degenerated quickly, their Bourbon Street party for two driving Scully to pass out and Mulder to fumble his way to the bathroom to expel said Bourbon Street party. Stomach empty, he began nursing a large bottle of water, one slow sip at a time, until he consumed one, then two of them. Peeing like there was no tomorrow, he finally made it back to the bed, shaking Scully’s shoulders to wake her up for water and aspirin.

She guzzled, a stupid idea in hindsight and ended up taking the Mulder route, hugging the toilet for several minutes before dragging back to bed, crawling across the mattress, bumping her partner several times in her trek to her pillow, “the room is tilted, Mulder. I don’t think it should be tilted.”

He handed the water back to her, “drink slower.”

Doing so, she finished the bottle, then refilled both empties, swaying left and right as she did so, using her shoulder against the wall for balance. Back in bed, “I’m so tired, Mulder.”

“Then go to sleep.”

“One sec.” She reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head without a nary of protest from the wearer. Tossing it elsewhere, she invaded his space, settling her cheek between shoulder and sternum, hand resting low on his hipbone, pinkie stroking the shallow dip at his waist.

She fell asleep immediately ….

He was awake a little longer.


Comic dub of an Overwatch fancomic by @dogtit - featuring the voices of @totalspiffage, Tiana Camacho and @hnilmik! Just how many AUs are there out there, you may be asking? As many as there are stars in the night sky! So like, at least a dozen, maybe two.

If you enjoyed that, why not watch some of my other Overwatch comic dubs?
The Neck’s Best Thing
Spending Critique
Pickup Masters

Or check out the full playlist here!

p!atd album aesthetics
  • afycso: 1980s strip clubs hidden away from wives, costume parties where the hostess plans to kill a guest, climbing through the windows of friends because it’s not safe at home, losing your virginity to a one night stand that you want back, smudged deep red lipstick on swollen lips, hiding vodka in a flask under your shirt, meeting under barber shop signs to whisper secrets, affairs that everybody knows about but nobody talks about
  • pretty.odd.: stoners sitting in a circle playing acoustic covers of hippie song, kisses on the necks of best friends, lying on the grass on warm nights and stargazing, singing french to yourself even though you've got no clue as to what you're saying, flower crowns strewn over messy short hair, going into grocery stores in the middle of the night
  • vices: newly cut and styled hair, smoothing down vest jackets and straightening ties, sharp violin notes, dark passionate nights and lonely mornings, realising your sunday preacher is also your monday drug dealer, nostalgia for times with old friends that you miss
  • too weird: waking up in vegas even though you went to sleep on the other side of cali, shaking glitter out of folded clothes, blowing out cigarette smoke into the crisp night sky, kicking broken slot machines until change spills out, realising you miss someone more than you care to admit
  • doab: climbing to the top of a building and seeing where the city meets the sky, feeling at ease with somebody for the first time in a while, letting everything bad inside consume you for a little bit but eventually taking back control, lying in the hot sun on a deckchair next to a pool, neon lights shining onto the beach in the late evening
More Teacher!Kent AU

NHL Fine



At the stove, Kent’s refilling the guac when a warm hand touches his hip, and a big nose presses into the side of his neck.  “Best thing in kitchen, cute guy making food.”

“Excuse me,” Kent says, huffing, “but I have a boyfriend.”

Alexei laughs.  “Oh yes?  Is he good boyfriend?  If not, I’m steal you.”  His warm lips press against Kent’s pulse.

Kent smiles, continuing on his task.  “Eh.  He’s not bad.”

“Not bad?” Alexei asks.

Kent’s grin widens.  “I mean, he’s pretty hot.  At least, that’s what they tell me.  He’s got amazing abs, and his hockey-butt is one for the ages.  I mean, not as good as Zimmermann’s…”

“What?” Alexei squawks.

“Or well…so I’ve heard,” Kent says with a giggle.

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